


One Minute Ago

by Jadesfire



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Gen, Hydra is evil, Our past is our future is our past, The fall of SHIELD, Time Travel, embedded art, graphics heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesfire/pseuds/Jadesfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time.</i><br/>Sir Winston Churchill</p><p>Who doesn't want the chance to go back and do things again? Or to correct a world-changing mistake? But when Sharon is thrown back in time and is given the chance to set everything to rights, she finds that changing your past isn't nearly as easy as it looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Carter women ARBB Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123736) by [endeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endeni/pseuds/endeni). 



> Written for Avengers Reverse Big Bang 2014. With huge thanks to my amazing artist Endeni, who was patient, encouraging and made me so many lovely pieces that they absolutely set the direction for the story. All the art made is embedded in the story, and the header for Chapter One provided the original inspiration.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s173.photobucket.com/user/endeniem/media/CW_cover_zpsc329c77d.png.html)  
> 

[](http://s173.photobucket.com/user/endeniem/media/carter_women_a_zpsfe56c540.png.html)

  
_Nothing is as far away as one minute ago_  
Jim Bishop

When Peggy had accepted Howard's offer to take up the directorship of SHIELD, she'd thought it would mean getting away from the grind of the office and paperwork. If she'd known it would mostly mean generating the paperwork herself, she might not have said yes.

That was a nice lie to tell herself on days like today when the meeting in the morning had lead to eight more forms to be composed and a twelve page report to read. She really shouldn't have to care about this sort of thing, but Howard wouldn't take the interest, Dugan had his hands full operational matters, and she wouldn't trust either of them to get it right anyway. SHIELD would get government funding for at least the next three year, and if that meant Peggy had to create a form to let the procurement department find a better boot supplier, then so be it. She was damned if she was going to let her people down just because she might get bored some days. All the same, when the base klaxon goes off, she threw her pen down with considerable relief. 

Security teams were jogging down the corridors towards the research departments, not seriously on alert yet, but not dawdling either. They were good men, too well trained to rush, and certainly too well trained to raise an eyebrow at the director falling into step beside them.

On the edge of the research zone, Dugan greeted her with a nod, lifting his voice above the siren.

"Thought you'd be coming." His hat was tipped back on his head, a sure sign that he was ruffled. "You're going to want to see this."

"Did Howard blow out the windows again" They really couldn't get the new research facility built soon enough for Peggy's peace of mine or the glass budget.

"Not exactly. And he says it's not his fault."

"He always does." Peggy grabbed a passing agent, leaning closer to be heard. "Unless we really need the whole base here, tell the control room to turn the damn- Never mind." As though it had heard her, the alarm cut out before she could finish the order.

Over the echoing ring in her ears, she could hear something else now. It was a woman's voice, raised and raw, punctuated by shouted orders from the men of the security team.

Rounding the corner, Peggy stopped dead, wishing the alarm hadn't left her hearing so sensitive. 

"Will someone tell me what's going on here?" She didn't have much cause for her drill sergeant voice these days. It was nice to know it still worked. All the parties to the shouting match froze, trying to keep their eyes on each other as well as Peggy.

"That's better," she said into the silence, taking a step closer to the guards, who all had their weapons drawn. "Should I repeat the question?"

"No, ma'am." The head of the security patrol, an experienced, steady man named Briggs, took half a step backwards, out of the protective circle, his men shuffling around to make sure their target was still covered. While Peggy admired he commitment, it seemed more than a little like overkill.

Then the woman at the focus of their attention turned a little, and while her gun was pointed at the floor for now, the straight-armed grip, and the coiled tension of her whole body suggested she could have it up, aimed and fired as fast as the men around her. But for all that, it was the look in her eyes that caught Peggy's attention. There was something wild about it, something lost. She'd seen that look too many times during the war, on men who'd seen and lost too much, and whose control was slipping. Whatever training this woman had, it was all that was holding her together right now, and Peggy didn't want to know what would happen if it gave way.

Belatedly, she realised Briggs had been talking, no doubt giving her a report that he had now finished.

"Thank you, Agent," she said, which was usually the right response. "I'll take it from here." Aware of Dugan's eyes on her, she stepped up alongside the nearest guard, drawing the woman's full attention. There was a flare of emotion so quickly smothered that Peggy wondered if she'd imagined it. Except the woman's face was too carefully controlled now, expression too blank to reflect anything but a desire to hide what had been there.

"It's alright," Peggy said, hoping she sounded soothing. Which was faintly ridiculous given the number of drawn weapons, but still, it had to be tried. "There's no need to be afraid. We're not going to hurt you."

"Where am I?" An American accent, not once Peggy could immediately place, so she just filed it away for now.

"Where were you?"

"I was-" The woman cut herself off, shaking her head. "No, that can't be right." She settled her gaze on Peggy again, searching her face. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller, softer, less certain. "What year is it?"

So that was it. Gently, Peggy came within arm's reach, spreading her hands to make it clear she was unarmed. "It's nineteen forty eight," she said, matching the woman's softer tone. "What year did you think it was?"

There it was again, that flash of- what? Fear? Surprise? Whatever it was, it was hidden as soon as it came.

"I..." The rest of the sentence seemed to get caught in the woman's throat, and Peggy saw the tight line of her shoulders relax, just a little.

There was a noise of protest, probably from Dugan, when Peggy stepped in close enough to put a hand over the woman's on her gun. It was even more obvious from close up, from the fabric of the woman's shirt to the armoured waistcoat she was wearing and, as Peggy pulled it from unresisting fingers, the design of her gun.

"How many years?" Peggy asked. "How far in the future were you?" The shake of the head wasn't unexpected, even if the woman didn't exactly seem sorry to have let go of at least some of her rigid control.

Stepping away, Peggy waved her free hand to the security team. "You can stand down. Two of you, with me. The rest of you, get back to your regular duties." She passed the gun to Dugan who looked down at it, and then up at her, his face mirroring all her questions.

"Come on," Peggy said, turning back to the woman and gesturing for her to precede them down the corridor. "I think there's someone who's going to be very pleased to meet you/"

* * *

"Whatever happened, it wasn't me." Howard paused, apparently considering. "And even if it was, you'll never prove it."

"I know it wasn't you, Howard, unless this is your best trick yet."

That got his attention, and he finally looked up from the microscope he'd been peering down. As he spotted their uninvited visitor, his expression changed from puzzled to surprised to intrigued with such speed and clarity that Peggy made a mental note to drop by the weekly poker game. It looked like it would be easy money.

"Well, Director, it was nice of you to bring me a present, but it's not my birthday for three months yet." He was already making his way towards the woman, who was starting to look alarmed again.

Peggy caught Howard's arm before he could pass her. "She's not a gift, and she's not yours. Go easy." She felt protective of this woman who had appeared in their base out of thin air, brandishing a gun that she clearly knew how to use, and looking so completely lost. Peggy knew she should have been wary, or concerned, or anything other than this instinctive need to stand between the other woman and her over-enthusiastic colleague.

Even if the words didn't sink in, she knew her warning tone would, and Howard put up his hands in surrender. More carefully this time, he turned his attention to the woman, his expression calculating.

"How far ahead have you come from?" he asked, then shook his head. "Actually no, don't tell us. You don't want to upset the timeline. Except, of course, now you're here, anything you do or say is part of the timeline and will have affected your time already, so I suppose you might as well go ahead and tell us after all. Or not." He turned back to Peggy. "This could get confusing."

As Peggy opened her mouth to reply, there was an odd, choked sob, and both she and Howard looked over to see the woman sink onto a lab stool, her hand pressed over her mouth a though surprised the sound had come from her.

"I'm sorry," she said, lifting her hand just enough to speak. "It's just-" She choked up again, and Peggy realised she was trying not to laugh. There were tears in her eyes as well, and Peggy knew incipient hysteria when she saw it.

"It's alright," she said, taking the next lab stool, she risked putting her hand on the woman's again, not really surprised when it was caught in a tight grip. "Believe it or not, a visitor from the future is not the strangest thing that has happened around here."

"Definitely not." Dugan shot a glance at Howard, who glared back.

The woman managed a few deep breaths, getting herself under control, although her fingers were still tight on Peggy's. Now they were closer, Peggy could see how young the woman really was, barely into her mid-twenties probably, and beautiful despite the severe ponytail and drab clothing.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she whispered, sounding so lost that Peggy had to resist the urge to pat her shoulder and tell her it was all going to be fine. She doubted she'd get any thanks for that. Peggy knew the price that had to be paid in training and competence when all people saw was a pretty face. She wasn't about to undermine what must have been hard-won control that the woman was barely hanging onto.

"Let us help you," she said instead, and when the woman looked up, there was such fierce hope in her eyes that it took Peggy by surprise. There was more to it than a lifeline to a drowning woman, Peggy was sure of it. This was personal somehow, a faith in her to an extent that was breathtaking. The woman knew nothing about her beyond her name, and yet from the way she looked at her, she trusted her completely. It was disconcerting.

With a polite cough, Howard spoke and the woman looked away, breaking the intensity of the moment. Peggy took the chance to really look at her for the first time, trying to see beyond the obvious. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fine features in a slim build. For all her apparent delicacy, the hand in Peggy's was strong, muscled and calloused from handling weapons. Her posture wasn't exactly that of a soldier, not really upright enough, but she took in her surroundings like one, and her training was obvious. She was wearing a heavily pocketed waistcoat that Peggy was sure was armoured, with a dark jumper and trousers underneath. It might have been camouflage for the environment she'd been in, or it might just have been comfortable.

Howard asked another question, making the woman press her lips together and shake her head, and Peggy brought her attention back to the conversation.

"We have to call you something," Howard was saying.

With a sideways glance at Peggy that she couldn't quite read, the woman shook her head again.

"I guess we'll just have to go with Jane Doe, then," Howard said, shrugging. "Does that work for you, Jane?"

Peggy nodded when he looked to her, and as the woman - Jane, now - seemed equally untroubled by the idea, she supposed it was settled. 

"Can you tell us how you got here?" Howard asked, taking a seat on the other side of the lab table.

"I was chasing someone," Jane said, obviously choosing her words with care. "I followed him and his partner back to what I thought was his lab. When I entered, there was a bright flash of light, then I was here." She looked away, as though aware it wasn't much of an explanation. 

Fortunately when there was a puzzle involved, Howard had a remarkable ability to stay focussed. "What did you see in the lab? Any equipment or devices that might have sent you here?"

"There was a light source, right on the central table. I thought it was a working lamp, but now?" She shrugged. "My target put his hand on it right before everything disappeared."

"What happened to his partner?" Dugan was always the tactical thinker.

"I shot him," Jane said, no inflection in the words, and from Dugan's silence, he'd read the same closed expression that Peggy had. 

"Do you think the device was aimed at getting rid of your, or did your target intend to come back here?"

Jane's head whipped around, her focus suddenly all on Howard again. "What?"

"Well, if you've got a time travel device, which I'm coming back to later by the way, don't think that I've forgotten, you probably intend to use it yourself. So I'm wondering if your target meant to come through himself, or if he was just trying to eliminate the immediate threat." As Jane's face was still a white mask, he added, "That would be you," in case she needed it spelling out. 

"I don't know." Jane's hand pulled free from Peggy's, gripping the lab table instead, probably to stop her falling off her seat if her terrified expression was anything to go by. "I have to find him."

"Not your job, young lady," Dugan said, gesturing to the guards, one of whom crossed the room to join him. "If there's a threat to this base, then we'll handle it."

"No, you don't understand, he's-" Jane cut herself off again, shaking her head. "It has to be me."

"I'm afraid I have a few more questions for you," Howard said, and Peggy pushed her seat back, just a little, giving herself a little space. The tension was rolling off the other woman now, her hands white-knuckled and her jaw set. "This could still be some kind of infiltration plan, so if you really are from the future, I'm going to need you to answer some questions to prove it."

"No, I have to find him."

That was all the warning they got before all the tension in Jane's body seemed to coalesce at once, springing her into movement. She threw her chair backwards at the guard she must have heard approaching, catching him in the midriff and sending him staggering for a few steps, a distraction she used to tug his weapon from his belt holster. As the other guard swung towards her, his own gun out, Jane took two fast steps into his space, slamming an elbow into his nose and her knee into his stomach, disarming him before giving him a hard push into Dugan and knocking both of them to the floor. 

"Nobody move," she said, the stolen gun swinging between them. It was hard not to miss how it swung from Dugan and the crumpled guard, to Howard, to the other guard who was leaning on the back of the chair, wheezing, but dipped a little as it passed Peggy, as though their mystery woman was only interested in the men in the room. 

Jane took a few steps back, giving her more room to cover them, and glanced towards the door. "I'm sorry," she said, looking back at Peggy. "But I have to find him first." 

Peggy should have felt threatened. She should have been angry or embarrassed or anything but the uneasy calm that had settled in her stomach. It meant that instead of a warning or a threat, she said, "Let us help you."

Shaking her head a little, Jane began to edge towards the door. "You can't. You shouldn't. Keep everyone away from us, you have no idea how dangerous this man is."

"Then tell us." Peggy stepped forward a little, and even that didn't seem to be enough to make the gun swing back to cover her. "Give us more to go on."

"I'm sorry." The apology was personal, sincere, and Peggy had no doubt it was meant for her. Then Jane was gone, slipping out into the corridor so silently that if Peggy hadn't been sure about her training before, there was no mistaking it now.

Dugan was already going for one of the phones, while the guards were slowly picking themselves up. At the table, Howard was still staring at the door, his expression unreadable. He shook himself after a moment, lifting his head to look at Peggy and raising one eyebrow. 

"Well," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "That went well."

* * *

There wasn't really much point in Peggy sitting behind her mountains of paperwork for the rest of the day, but she did it anyway, pulling forms towards her and trying to pretend that she cared about how much concrete was going to be needed to finish off the roof. She had well-trained security teams, the whole base on high alert, and all going out there herself was going to accomplish was adding to the security issues. 

Even so, her fingers twitched around her pen, her attention wandering. Maybe if she put herself in charge of one of the security teams, rather than heading off on her own, that would be better. 

Huffing a laugh under her breath, she shook her head. What that would mostly accomplish was telling her security staff she didn't trust them. Which wasn't true, she was just itching to get out there and do something. 

Dugan rescued her from her death by a thousand paper cuts, coming in with the latest report on the search. 

"The labs are locked down," he said, trying and obviously failing to get comfortable on the hard visitor's chair. "We're starting a sweep from the north wing through to the south."

"Make sure you post guards behind you in case she manages to double back," Peggy said, ignoring the offended look he gave her, which might have been for the unneeded advice, or might have been for the implication that their Jane Doe would get past the security teams. "She's good. Well trained. Is someone checking the ventilation pipes?"

"We're checking the access points, but not many of my men can get in there." He must have seen the flash of an idea on her face, because he shook his head almost at once. "No, Director, you are not going crawling through the ventilation shafts looking for a potential enemy agent."

He was right, of course, even if Peggy was one of the few people on the base who could both have fitted in the space and would know what to do if they actually found their escapee. She tried not to let too much of her disappointment show, and shifted her attention to his words instead.

"Enemy agent? Is that what you think she is?"

"Potentially. She turns up here with a convenient excuse for why she can't tell us anything about herself, and with an even more convenient reason for disappearing, since apparently she's protecting us from yet another enemy, who we haven't even seen." He tilted his head. "On the other hand, if she is trying to infiltrate SHIELD, it's the worst cover story I've ever heard."

"But as we'd be suspicious of a water-tight story, maybe it's a clever tactic." Dropping her pen onto the pile of papers, Peggy sighed. "I know all of that, Dum-Dum. I'm asking what you think."

He thought for a long moment before answering, as she'd known he would, which was why she'd asked. He wouldn't just tell her what she wanted to hear, or disagree with her for the sake of it, or patronise her with a careful non-answer. 

"I think she believed what she was saying, and if that was a disguise then we've got a serious problem because those materials were a long way beyond what we can make." He shrugged. "Whether she's actually from the future, or just been brainwashed to think she is, I don't know." He fixed her with a shrewd look. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." It was the truth, as much as she hated admitting it. "I believed her, I think."

"Just like that?" Dugan sounded skeptical. "You just believed her?"

"I can't explain it." She wished she could. But some gut feelings you just couldn't fight, and there had been something in Jane Doe's eyes that couldn't have been faked. "And we've seen stranger than that. Remember the octopus in New York?"

"I try not to." For all his exaggerated shudder, Dugan returned Peggy's smile. "I suppose after that, time travel doesn't seem so bizarre."

"Howard thinks the Tesseract could have enough power to do almost anything. There's no reason they couldn't have something like that in the future. Or maybe they actually have it, and that's what was used to send our guest back here." She knew she was starting to over-think this, to find a reason for it to be true because she wanted it to be true. "Anyway," she said, giving hersself a mental shake, "the first priority has to be finding her. Then we can try to get to the bottom of this."

"You got it, boss." Dugan touched a finger to his hat in what had once been something of a joke. "I'll let you know if we find her."

"Non-lethal force only," Peggy called after him as he left. "She has to be in once piece if we're going to ask her questions."

"Received and understood."

* * *

None of Peggy's afternoons passed quietly. There was always too much to do and too many people who wanted a piece of her time, even if her secretary kept most callers away. Still, for her, it was fairly quiet, just the nagging worry that any moment, the alarm was going to go off again, or that an over-enthusiastic guard would decide shooting first saved time. 

Or that her instincts were wrong, and they had a dangerous enemy agent loose in the base. 

She'd put all non-essential departments on lockdown, just in case, with guards at every entry point and all staff under strict instructions not to leave their offices until they absolutely had to. Everyone in the building had come into SHIELD knowing the risks, and understanding the rules, so when Dugan checked in, he only had a couple of minor gripes, mostly about the translation team who didn't seem to understand that coffee wasn't technically an essential function of the department. 

He'd stationed a couple of men outside Peggy's suite, even if they both knew Celia and Peggy were more than capable of protecting themselves. At least with the added protection, they could both get on with their work. Or they had, until Celia had gone home, leaving the outer office in semi-darkness. Peggy worked on as usual, half an ear on the corridor outside, and a little of her attention on the radio behind her desk. She could monitor the whole building from here, and she could probably find her way around it blindfolded, which was more than she could do around her apartment. That was what happened when you didn't spend any time in a place, she supposed.   
She'd got caught up in a proposal for the distribution of field stations along the West Coast, and so it took a while for the strangeness to penetrate her consciousness. Even when it did, it took her a moment to find the source of the distraction, her hand automatically pulling her pistol from the top drawer as she tried work out what had caught her attention.

Then she heard it. The radio had fallen silent. Dugan would have had his people working through the night until the intruder was found, and if she had been, he would have told her.

Moving silently, Peggy checked her pistol was loaded and pushed her chair back from the desk. There were high windows in the double doors, the dim lights of Celia's office glowing gently through them. Peggy pressed her back to one door, leaning up just enough to see through the window. With her own light on, she'd be dangerously easy to spot, but she didn't want to turn it off and risk giving herself away. 

She couldn't see any movement in the other office from her limited range of vision, and the only thing she could see had her ducking back down behind the window again, shifting her grip on the gun. 

The guards were gone from the outer doors. And the room might look empty, but Peggy would bet a pound to a penny that it wasn't. 

Cursing her own willingness to believe, she ran through and rejected scenarios for action. Just staying her wasn't an option, not when the person hunting her knew she was in here, and had probably now guessed that Peggy knew she was there. Or did she? Peggy glanced around the office. There was always another choice.

When the door finally burst open, banging back on its hinges, no doubt to make sure there was no one behind it, Peggy was sitting back at her desk, pen in hand and paperwork piled in front of her. She managed to keep her flinch to a minimum, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

"Won't you come in?"

Her visitor was dirty, hair coming loose from its tight ponytail, while her left leg and sleeve were both grey with dust. She kept her gun trained on Peggy as she came into the room, checking the obvious hiding places and moving with care. It looked like Peggy's guess about the air ducts had been right.

"I'm not what you think." There was a slightly hysterical note in her voice again, making Peggy raise her other eyebrow.

"And what do I think?"

"You're having me hunted."

"You pulled a gun on me and ran away." Peggy leaned forwards a little. "You may not do it like this in the future, but here and now, we don't take kindly to being threatened."

"It's not like that." 'Jane' lifted a hand to push hair out of her eyes, and while her gun was steady, her free fingers were trembling. 

"Then sit down and tell me how it is." With a conscious effort, Peggy relaxed her hold on her pen, forcing her own fear back. 

"I can't. I need your help." Taking another unsure step towards the desk, the woman lifted her gun a little, getting a firmer grip with both hands. "You have to help me find him."

"And I will. But first you need to sit down, calm down, and tell me what is going on."

"I don't need to do anything!" 

When Peggy had been fifteen, ready to leave home and resenting anything that kept her there, she'd spend a horrendous week helping her mother look after three of her younger cousins. They'd run themselves ragged all day, then be too fraught to settle in the evening, until they finally collapsed wherever they were standing. Whatever this woman had been through, she looked about ready to drop herself, and the lost look was back on her faith, reminding Peggy of a small child just looking for someone to tell them what to do.

Except this small child was still armed and dangerous.

"I'm afraid you do," Peggy said calmly, finally putting her pen down. "Because if you don't, I will shoot you in the kneecap. Or possibly the shin or thigh. It's hard to aim precisely like this."

Her visitor seemed to notice for the first time that Peggy's other hand was under the table, not needing to see the gun to know it was there. She swallowed, as though trying to calculate whether she could get a shot off first.

"I don't want to shoot you," Peggy said, and added on impulse, "And I don't think you want to shoot me. So why don't you take a seat, and we'll talk about this like grown ups. Honestly, you're worse than the commandos."

That got her a startled laugh, all the tension suddenly going out of the other woman, who dropped into the chair, wincing a little. She rested her gun on her knee, not letting it go but obviously not planning on using it either. Peggy took the moment while she ran her hand over her face to bring her own gun out and lie it on the table, one hand still on the grip. 

"I really can't tell you my name," the woman said at last. "But you can call me Agent Thirteen."

That sent a jolt of surprise through Peggy. "Agent? Whose agent?"

"It's a bit complicated, but Thirteen was my designation when I was at SHIELD."

Without meaning to, Peggy let her grip on her gun slip, staring at the woman - the _agent_ \- and trying to wrap her head around the implications. When words finally came, they weren't the ones she'd meant to say.

"They won't let me make women full agents yet."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Peggy was laughing as well, both of them struggling to get themselves under control. It seemed ridiculous, to be sitting here, looking at the future of the cause she'd decided to give her life to, only to have the future looking back at her, disheveled and dirty and more than a little frayed at the edges.

Finally getting her breath back, Peggy shook her head. "I'd offer you a drink, but we don't keep any on base. Well. Not outside Howard's lab."

"It's fine. I shouldn't anyway. I haven't eaten since the twenty-first century." Apparently settling down a little herself, the agent leaned forwards, her elbows on her knees. "And I really do need your help."

"To find the man who sent you here." It was a sobering thought that someone SHIELD had been chasing had managed to escape. Except there had been something in the phrasing earlier that was bothering Peggy. "You said Thirteen was your designation when you were at SHIELD," she said. "Are you still with us?"

"I'm with you," the agent said instantly, with such fervour that Peggy could easily believe her. "But when I'm from, things are more complicated. I can't explain, but I've been working with another agency, rounding up people we think might have taken SHIELD technology."

"Well that's certainly cryptic," Peggy said, feeling the suspicion creeping up on her again. "But you were a SHIELD agent?"

"It's all I've ever wanted to do." The agent met her eyes properly at last, and Peggy couldn't look away. She knew that look, had seen it in the mirror too many times not too. There was a hard core of sorrow underneath the determination in the other woman's eyes, a look that spoke of loss as much as purpose. This was something Peggy could understand. 

"That's good enough for me." Turning in her chair, Peggy reached for the radio. "You'd better tell me what this man looks like."

"I don't need to." The sorrow was gone now, the purpose burning it away and she straightened a little in the chair. "I know where he'll be."

"You do," Peggy said flatly, suspicions rising.

"Yes." This time, the woman took a deep breath, obviously bracing herself. "He'll be wherever you're holding Arnim Zola."

[ ](http://s173.photobucket.com/user/endeniem/media/logo_ssr-s_zps412eef98.png.html)


	2. Chapter Two

 

  
_Nothing, of course, begins at the time you think it did._

Lillian Hellman

 

When she'd dropped her bombshell, Sharon hadn't really expected it to work. For all that her aunt - and was Peggy her aunt if Sharon's parents hadn't even been born yet? - seemed willing to believe her, Sharon had assumed that dropping the Hydra scientist's name here and now would have got her an instant dismissal.

Instead, Peggy sat very still, staring at Sharon with that same intensity she'd had right up to a few years ago, and which had been looking right through Sharon since she'd arrived in nineteen forty-eight. There had been moments when Sharon could have sworn Peggy was reading her mind, while at others, she'd had to fight the overwhelming urge to just give in and let it all come spilling out. Only knowing how disappointed Peggy would have been at such foolishness had kept Sharon's mouth shut.

Now, dirty uncomfortable from hours in the ventilation system, and sitting on her aunt's uncomfortable office chair, Sharon felt calm at last. The memories of the moments just before her time-jump had only come back slowly, but now she had them again, and she'd had time to think and watch and listen. And she was sure.

"The man I was following," she said, knowing that every word from now on would be scrutinised even more closely, "he wants to bring Hydra back. I think he's here to see Zola, to find out more about Hydra's networks, maybe even to bring him forwards in time eventually. I don't know. But I know that wherever Zola is, my target will be there as well."

"Hydra is gone." The statement was as flat and blank as Peggy's stare. "It died with the Red Skull and we burned the remains."

For a moment, Sharon remembered that this wasn't history for Peggy, not yet. This was her recent past, and it still hurt.

"I know what happened," she said. "But I'm telling you, this is why he's come to this time and place. Before the base is completely finished, while you still have weaknesses in your security. He's going to find Zola, and he's going to use that knowledge to rebuild Hydra."

The only reply was silence, which hopefully meant Peggy was at least thinking about what Sharon had said. Sharon had never been as good at reading her aunt as Peggy had at reading her, and there was no way to tell from her blank expression whether she was skeptical or convinced. Or neither.

"Even if I believe you," Peggy said at last, her fingers flexing, just a little, "I can't let you anywhere near Zola. No one is even supposed to know he's here. The guards think he's just another Hydra turncoat, and the scientists he's working with think he's in Argentina."

"My target knows he's here. That's why he had his device bring us here. And unless you let me look for him, he'll be able to raise Hydra from the dead in my time."

As Peggy sat in silence again, her eyes distant and expression cold, Sharon clenched her jaw against the nervousness creeping up her back and along her shoulders. There was no way she was going to tell her aunt that SHIELD had failed, that Hydra had lurked amongst them for so many decades. SHIELD had been Peggy's life's work. Sharon was not going to render it meaningless.

"We can't increase his security without raising suspicions," Peggy said into the silence, making Sharon jump. "The whole reason he's secure at the moment is that no one knows where he is. But to get to where we're holding him, you have to pass through detainment."

"You mean cells," Sharon said, getting a slight shrug for reply.

"More or less. At the moment they're really just empty rooms with locks. But they have windows in the doors to keep an eye on any prisoners. You'd be able to see the corridor easily enough." She seemed to focus again, one eyebrow lifting as she looked at Sharon. "How much do you trust me?"

That was an easy enough question and Sharon answered it without thinking. "With my life." It was maybe a little strong to judge from Peggy's face, but Sharon couldn't regret saying it. "Now you know, I trust you to help me."

"You don't think I could be stringing you along, getting you to walk into the cell yourself to save me the trouble of having to shoot you?" And there was the sardonic humour that always came first to Sharon's mind when she thought of Peggy.

She tried to match it, knowing she couldn't. "You could be. You're the best Director SHIELD ever had," she added, offering a silent apology to Nick Fury. He might have been the best Sharon had really known, but Peggy was family. Sharon thought he'd understand. "And you're one of the best agents we ever had. I'm pretty sure that you could convince me of anything, and I'd believe you. But on the other side of that, you know when you're being played." Sharon leaned forwards, trying to put everything she knew about her aunt into her voice, her expression. "And you know I'm telling you the truth."

That helped, at least a little, because Peggy nodded, just once, and pushed her chair away from the table. "Very well. And if it turns out I'm actually the second best, at least you'll be easy to find."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Sharon looked around the bare, grey room and wondered if she'd misjudged this after all. From the doorway, her aunt and Dum-Dum Dugan were watching her with equally amused and skeptical expressions. It had taken quite a lot of self-control for Sharon not to just break down and ask for Dugan's autograph when she'd been introduced. He might not be as well known in SHIELD legends, but Sharon had grown up with tales of the howling commandos, and she was still having a hard time reminding herself that he was a real person, not just the hero of her bedtime stories.

She wasn't even thinking about meeting Howard Carter, who'd looked like he'd stepped straight of a disreputable film set. It hadn't been so bad still being half-dazed from the time-jump at that point, else she might have completely embarrassed herself.

As it was, she was clearly returning her aunt's skepticism, because Peggy's mouth quirked into a smile.

"You need a lookout post, I need to know where you are. This works for both of us. The secure facility is just down the hall, and this is the only way in." She glanced at Dugan. "Dum-Dum will be by every hour or so, which he does sometimes, and although the door will look locked, it won't be."

That didn't sound quite right. "You can do that?" Sharon asked, frowning at what seemed to be a normal door and lock.

Peggy and Dugan exchanged another look. "Let's just say there are times when a prison break can be very useful," Peggy said, with a tighter smile that Sharon knew only too well. _Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies._

"Then this should work." Sharon paced the cell, such as it was, and it wasn't really much more than a closet with a bed roll on the floor. "I'll have a good view out, even from the corner, and I'll see anyone who comes past."

"No one should be coming past," Dugan said, and just from his tone, Sharon knew he thought this was a bad idea. "We shut up for the night a few hours ago, so if anyone comes this way, he's your man, whether you know him or not."

"If he's here, he'll make his move soon," Sharon said, prodding the bedroll experimentally. It would probably stop her ass from freezing on the concrete floor, and that was about it.

"You sound fairly sure about that."

"It's a reasonable assumption," Peggy put in, her endorsement something of a comfort against Dugan's uncertainty. "He'll know Sharon came through with him, and that she's been talking to us. He has to assume we'll side with her, and that we'll start looking for him. If he's going to do anything, it'll be in the next day or so."

"Great," Sharon said, stretching out cautiously on the bedroll, which lived up to its promise. "I'll only have to spend about forty-eight hours in here, then. Wonderful."

"That's what you get for being the only person who can do a job," Peggy said. There was a warmth in the words, a teasing that Sharon knew well. "Try not to sleep. If your target comes, trigger the silent alarm at the desk before you do anything." When Sharon nodded, Peggy's expression grew more stern. "I mean it, Agent. Do not go after this man on your own. If he is Hydra, you're going to need help to take him down."

"I understand." Sharon had been trying that tone on her aunt since she was six years old. It had never really worked, and didn't look like it would now.

Still, Peggy settled for shooing Dugan out of the room ahead of her, and giving Sharon a last warning look. "I'll hold you to that," she said, and then she was gone, the light from the corridor narrowing to just the strip that came through the long window.

It was obvious that the room wasn't just temporary, it was converted. The window ran vertically almost from the floor to the top of the door, far too much of a weak point for a purpose-built cell. Sharon tried to get comfortable against the wall, shifting the thin pillow to give some insulation from the cold. Surveillance jobs had never bothered her much. While her teammates always seemed to bitch about sitting and watching for hour after hour, Sharon had always been able to focus enough not to let it get to her. It was probably why Fury had given her the job watching Captain Rogers, because he knew she wouldn't get bored, she wouldn't give anything away, and she'd do her job.

She'd always done her job, and her job had always been SHIELD. It had hurt, having to tell Peggy that her codename was a past one, that the agency she'd been working for when she'd fallen down this rabbit hole wasn't the one she'd given her life to. That she would have given her life for.

It had been hard, hiding in the vents from the patrols, feeling hunted by her own people. The fact that they weren't her people, not yet, didn't matter. They wore the SHIELD logo, that meant they were Sharon's colleagues. Her team. Her family.

After a few minutes, the lights in the corridor dimmed, leaving Sharon in near darkness. There was still a faint glow from outside, though, and she knew her eyes would adjust. She wasn't going to fall asleep and she wasn't going to lose concentration, not when she was so close. The CIA team she'd been assigned to hadn't exactly welcomed an ex-SHIELD agent with open arms, and while the digs hadn't escalated to pranks (yet), the uneasy atmosphere had been driving her crazy. Which was why she'd disobeyed the instruction to wait for back-up, thrown her tac vest over her surveillance clothes and gone straight in. As far as she'd been concerned, the Hydra agents inside had betrayed everything she'd built her life on, and she hadn't been about to let them get away because back up was too slow.

In the darkness, she tipped her head back a little, stretching her neck against the strain. She'd need to take it easy, keep moving if she wasn't going to be stiff later on. She began flexing her muscles, starting with her toes and working her way up, feeling the same pent-up energy that she'd had before going into that lab. At least she'd taken one of them down, her bullets catching him in the chest, a close one-two group that she'd been able to do since she was eleven. He'd been wearing a vest, but at that range, it would have kicked like a mule.

The other man's face was burned into her memory, a twisted sneer in the blinding glow of the device on the table. He'd turned to her before bringing his hand down on it, expression one of pure hatred. She still didn't know if he'd meant to bring her with him or not, and wondered if that would be the only advantage she'd get. If he didn't know she was here, he wouldn't know to look out for her.

Almost as soon as the thought formed in Sharon's head, the lights came on in the corridor again, making her blink against the glare. Moving on autopilot, she shifted forwards, pulling the pillow and bedroll back into order and stepping over to press herself against the solid part of the door. At a quick glance, it would look like the room was unoccupied, and she'd just have to hope that a glance was all it would be given.

Footsteps came swiftly down the corridor, not even pausing as they passed Sharon's cell, and she heard the door at the end open and close. It was only then that she moved. At her insistence, she'd been given her own gun back - what Howard Stark could have done with that sort of advanced technology didn't bear thinking about - and it felt right in her hands as she slipped out into the corridor.

For all of three seconds, she thought about triggering the alarm to bring the others running. It was what she should do, she knew, and not calling for back up was what had landed her in this mess in the first place. But this wasn't their fight, this Hydra agent wasn't their responsibility, and if anything went wrong, she wasn't prepared to risk anyone else becoming a casualty.

There were two doorways into the secure area, Peggy had said, one twenty meters beyond the other. Sharon waited until she was sure her target would have moved through the second one before opening the first with her borrowed key. The air beyond was colder, mustier. These doors didn't get opened as much, and the room at the end would have its own air supply, making the atmosphere in the corridor oppressive.

The second door was already shut, so she'd got her timing right so far. This door was the trickier one, with no way to tell what was going on behind it. She checked her gun again, using the familiar routine to calm her nerves. Then she put her shoulder to the door, and pushed.

* * *

In retrospect, Sharon probably should have expected the ambush on the other side. She had, really, flinging herself through the entrance, looking for cover and moving quickly as she tried to assess the threats. Unfortunately, the man she was hunting had all the advantages, including the security camera feed that he had apparently been using to follow her progress.

Slowly, Sharon put her gun on the floor and her hands up, keeping her eyes on the man who'd nearly shot her knees out from under her. Judging by the scuff marks on the floor, he'd even gone to the trouble of shifting the only table in the room that might have given her cover. He was definitely a field agent, and she wondered absently how he'd found the time travel device.

"Agent Carter," he said, his gun steady. "I thought you'd hitched a ride."

"Whatever you're doing, I'm going to stop you." Even to her own ears, Sharon's voice sounded hoarse, her barely-checked anger making it hard to get the words out. Her aunt's words from earlier rose up in her mind, and she let herself smile coldly. "Hydra is dead. We're just burning the body."

That made the man blink, his gun wavering for a second. "Hydra? Is this some kind of double game you're trying to play?"

"What?

"What?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, until the man narrowed his eyes a fraction. "You're the Hydra agent. I'm trying to finish my last mission for SHIELD."

Sharon rocked on her feet, mind swirling. "You're lying," she said without thinking. "I heard you and your partner. You were talking about coming back here, about finding Zola, about Hydra."

"Of course we were." The man looked genuinely confused now, his brow furrowed. "That was our mission."

"Your SHIELD mission." Sharon couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice, and she really didn't want to.

"Yes." Still looking as though he'd hit his head on something, the man slowly lowered the gun. "I'm here to kill Zola."

Sharon stared at him, not quite able to process the words right away. She'd heard them, both of them, discussing Hydra, Zola, details that she'd thought only a Hydra agent would know. Except a SHIELD agent would have known them as well, if that had been his mission.

She shook her head, not about to give in so easily. "No, that's what a Hydra agent would say if his mission was compromised. I don't believe you."

"You don't have to." Still with his gun down, the man gestured with his other hand for her to pick up her own weapon. "I'll show you that I'm telling the truth. You can watch me shoot him in the head."

"I don't understand." Didn't understand and certainly didn't believe, not yet, but she crouched and scooped up her gun anyway, not about to waste the opportunity. "You shot at me."

"I thought you were Hydra."

Not for the first time since the fall of SHIELD, Sharon felt a wash of red hot hatred at the hall of mirrors her life had become. She'd always known who she was - a SHIELD agent - and what that stood for, and Hydra had reared up and torn it all down. There were days when she wondered if she even knew what side she was on any more, let alone if it was the right one or not.

Sensing her hesitation, the man across the room held up his own gun, thumbing the safety on with exaggerated care. "I'm Guy Brackley," he said. "I've been an agent of SHIELD for nine years, and I was in special forces before that. I have two brothers, my parents are dead, and when SHIELD fell, my partner and I decided to carry out one last mission." Taking Sharon's silence as an invitation to continue, he carefully came out from behind the table, still with his hands half-raised. "We decided to cut off the head of Hydra."

"Cut off one head and two more will rise," Sharon murmured, making Guy wince. He was tall and good looking, with chestnut hair slicked back in the fashion of this time, and clear brown eyes that met hers without flinching.

"That's what they said, but it's not true. Right now, Hydra is Zola. He's the one inside SHIELD, he's the one who built it all. You saw the files the same as me."

That was true enough. In the data dump there had been plenty about the origins of the agency within the agency, how Hydra's tentacles had wound around every aspect of SHIELD's work.

"And you think killing Zola now will be enough?" The thought was dizzying. If they could change history, if they could stop Hydra from growing, they could save SHIELD.

"I don't know." When Sharon gave him a sharp look, Guy shrugged apologetically. "I don't. What I do know is if we do this, there's no going back for us. The timeline we came from won't exist any more, and the device I used won't have anything to anchor itself on. We'll be trapped here."

"That doesn't matter." It didn't. There was nothing to go back for, not any more. Her aunt barely recognised her any more, she had no other family she was close to, and the people she'd looked up to - Fury, Romanov, Rogers - had all dispersed to the four winds. Even Maria Hill had given it up and gone to the private sector. What exactly was there for Sharon to back to?

"Okay," she said at last. "I'm in." In an echo of Guy's gesture from earlier, she made a show of taking the safety back off her gun. "But you're going to walk in front of me, and you're going to deal with all the security as we go. Just because I believe in your mission doesn't mean I believe in you."

He smiled a little at that, as though it was what he'd been expecting. "Of course," he said, and still moving slowly, he tucked his own gun into his shoulder holster. "I guess if there's anything to shoot along the way, I'll let you do it."

"Just get moving. We don't have long before they realise I'm missing."

There was no space in Sharon's head to think about the people here and now that she was betraying, about Peggy and Dugan and even Howard Stark, and what this might mean to them. Zola had probably been behind at least half of SHIELD's technological advantages in the fifties and sixties. Without him, who knew what they'd develop instead.

None of that mattered, not now. Sharon let the cold detachment of the mission settle around her, pushing out all other concerns. Hydra needed to be more than just killed. The body needed to be salted and burned, and every single agent rooted out. They'd be easier to catch without the great brain at their centre.

Guy seemed to already have the security codes to the next door, and Sharon noticed for the first time that he was wearing a contemporary SHIELD uniform.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, hackles rising.

"Supply closet. The base is still too new for everyone to know everyone, so I've been moving from shift to shift, letting everyone think I've just joined up." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "A lot easier for me than it was for you, I think."

"Shut up and open the door."

"Nearly there. I think the regular guards have this memorised, but I had to copy it out of the day book. I can set it to jam for about ten minutes, but no more than that. And I can't even promise you that long. Are you ready?" Without waiting for an answer, he punched in the last number, and the door slid open silently. Beyond, all Sharon could see was white walls, and a plush white carpet. Apparently Zola liked things clean and comfortable.

She nodded towards the doorway. "You first. And you can draw your gun now."

"You're the boss," Guy said, just as a high, thin voice called from inside the room.

"It's not breakfast time yet, and I've already had dinner. What do you want?"

Sharon took a deep breath, and waited for Guy to step into the doorway. If meeting Dugan had been like meeting her hero, she felt like she was about to meet her devil. Bracing herself, she followed Guy inside.

* * *

"You are not, I think, my regular guards."

No pictures had prepared Sharon to meet Arnim Zola. In person he was smaller, even more harmless in appearance than in the photographs she'd seen. His eyes were almost comically huge behind his thick glasses, and he hunched in on himself as though trying to be smaller still. It seemed absurd to think that this was the man who'd nearly arranged a world conquest, but then, that had been the problem, hadn't it.

The thought snapped Sharon out of her reverie. "We don't have long," she said. "As soon as they see we're gone, they'll be in here." Here was a room decorated almost completely with white furnishing and fabrics, an absurdly comfortable suite in such a clinical building.

"Then I assume you are here to rescue me," Zola said, not sounding like he liked the idea very much.

"Not exactly," Guy told him. "We're here to kill you."

"Ah." It seemed that fitted more with what Zola had been expecting, because he actually relaxed a little, and for the first time, Sharon saw the cunning in his eyes, the wolf behind the sheep's clothing. "You are not the first to try."

"We're going to be the first to succeed." Guy had his weapon out and up, but he looked over to Sharon. "I know what SHIELD meant to you, Agent Carter. Do you want to do this?"

She'd shot to kill before, more than once. She'd even provided covering fire from a sniper's nest. But there was something different about shooting an unarmed man in cold blood, however necessary she considered the act. Her weapon was trained on Zola as he stared up at her, his face impassive.

"If you are going to do it, Agent, I suggest you get on with it. Neither of our experiences will be improved by waiting."

That helped, that smug note in his voice, the all-knowing spider at the heart of the web, the head of the conspiracy that hadn't just destroyed everything she'd believed in, but trampled it into the mud as well.

As the anger rose up, literally clouding her vision into a sharp, bright tunnel with Zola at the end of it, Sharon felt a prickle of something across the back of her neck, the hairs standing on end. It was nothing definable, nothing but an instinct that something was wrong, and it was an instinct that had never let her down. She tried to push the anger away, to find what had triggered her early warning system, and by the time she did, it was too late.

Guy was nearby, standing far too close for this sort of thing. Every SHIELD agent had standard training, and with them so close together, there was the chance of being startled or even deafened by a shot. It wasn't the sort of mistake an experienced soldier and field agent made.

But letting yourself be blinded by rage? Apparently that was all too easy a mistake to make. Sharon started to turn, to try to bring her arms up defensively, but Guy's greater height and reach let him get to her without having to move his feet, and the butt of his gun connected squarely with her temple. The world went white.

* * *

"Ah, you live. I was concerned my young friend might have hit you too hard."

Sharon tried to open her eyes, squinting against the light and flinching away when she realised she was looking up into Zola's face just a a few inches away. The flinch told her that she was sitting on the floor, her hands bound behind her, her back pressing uncomfortably into what she thought was probably a table leg. From the slight tickle against her wrists, they'd used torn fabric to tie her to it, although why she'd been allowed to wake up at all, she still wasn't sure.

"We don't have much time."

It took Sharon another moment to track Guy down, her vision still a little blurry. She could just about make him out in the centre of the room, spreading something out over the table there. Following her line of sight, Zola glanced across, then looked back at her, smiling a harmless smile.

"I'm afraid we have some business to conclude, but don't worry, you still have a role to play." He patted her on the shoulder, making her flinch again as he scuttled away, joining Guy at the table. As soon as he'd gone, she started straining at her bonds, trying to find the weak spot, and to work as silently as she could. The men had lowered their voices, but not nearly enough.

"This is everyone I could find. If there's more, you'll have to use the network to find them," Guy was saying, as Zola picked up some of the papers and started looking through them.

"You'll need to take them away again," he said distractedly. "If they're found here then you might as well have let your pretty friend put a bullet in my head."

"I've got a plan for that."

Sharon stilled in her struggles as he glanced towards her. "She came here to kill you, I stopped her. I'll be able to walk out of here with these," he tapped the papers, "and no one will even question it."

"Good. Then let me read."

From somewhere at the back of her mind, Sharon dredged up the trivia she remembered reading about Zola. Swiss, not German. Vegetarian. Eidetic memory. He'd be able to work his way through those few sheets in a few minutes, whatever they were, and remember every word.

"I know you're nearly free," Guy said, bringing Sharon's attention to him and the gun he'd drawn. "You might as well finish the job for me, save me coming over there."

"What did you give him?" Sharon asked, finally managing to get her hands on the knot that she'd pulled round into her grasp.

"Every Hydra agent listed in SHIELD's database who's alive in nineteen forty-eight."

The answer made Sharon fumble with the knot, too much going on in her head for her to manage the bindings as well. For a moment, she just stared up at Guy stupidly, her train of thought stuttering to a stop.

"What?"

"Oh, didn't you realise?" The smile he gave her was all tooth. "When all that data got released into the world, it included scans of early SHIELD archives. They were very thorough in listing all the agents still at large." He came a few steps closer, neither smile nor gun wavering. "How do you think Zola rebuilt Hydra right under SHIELD's nose? You didn't think he did it all himself, did you? We always knew he had a list to work with, but no one knew where it had come from. Until someone decided that the only way to take SHIELD down was to take it public." He shrugged. "I guess what goes around really does come around."

"It will for you." Sharon guessed he was expecting her to move, and to come at him, to try to get the gun. Instead, she threw herself to the side, bringing the heavy table with her and twisting as she fell, bringing it down between her and Guy. Her hands were still half-bound, so she slipped them free of the leg, pulling the last knot away and moving, not before giving the table a hard kick. It was a metal lab table and fell with a crash loud enough to rattle her teeth, straight into Guy's shins as he tried to jump out of the way.

He howled in pain and Sharon went for the door, throwing herself against it, banging her fists on it in frustration when it stayed shut. Across the room, Zola had retreated behind his chair, while Guy was trying to free one foot from under the fallen table. Sharon had a split second to make the choice between attack and defence, although it wasn't really much of a competition.

She launched herself at Guy, grabbing his wrist and wrenching the gun up before he could recover, then digging her nails into his wrist to make him let go of it. It clattered to the floor, and she brought her knee up into his stomach, before driving her elbow into his nose. He howled again, trying to throw himself forwards and use his weight advantage against her. At the last minute, she managed to twist away, rolling back to her feet and casting around for the gun.

In the concentration of the fight, she hadn't heard anything else, and so nearly jumped out of her skin when a new voice cut through the room, a horrible echo of when Sharon had first arrived.

"That's enough."

Sharon froze, her hands held out from her body, and she turned slowly towards the door, where SHIELD guards were streaming in past Peggy and Dugan. Two of them grabbed Sharon, and two more hauled Guy to his feet, making him grunt in pain. It was hard not to wince as they wrenched her hands behind her back, and she heard the click of cuffs being opened. Harder still was looking at Peggy, who was staring at Sharon with a cold, pure fury. There was nothing but betrayal on her face, no disappointment, no sadness and no surprise. Just pure anger, and Sharon knew she'd lost. Guy was in a SHIELD uniform, he hadn't tried to convince anyone of anything, and while it was clear he had questions to answer, no one was trying to drag him out the room in shackles.

And in that moment, she knew that she was not going to do this, she was not going to let the bottom fall out of her world again, and she was not going to let them shoot her as a traitor.

The guards had dragged her halfway to the door, but they'd only managed to get one of the bracelets on at the same time. With a last reserve of strength, Sharon threw herself forwards then back, feeling a hot spike of pain in her shoulder that she ignored in favour of knocking all three of them to the floor. She landed on top, rolled away and reached out with her cuffed hand. She'd always been quick, not only in action but in decision, and she knew without having to process the idea that this would work. The other bracelet snapped around Peggy's wrist and Sharon yanked again, letting her shoulder scream in protest as her other hand came around and snatched the gun from Peggy's belt. In another second she had it pointing at Peggy, who had pulled back away so they were at arm's length from each other, joined at the write.

Everything was suddenly very still.

"If you do this, there'll be nowhere to hide," Peggy said softly, for Sharon's ears only.

"I don't have a choice." Sharon wasn't about to say out loud that she'd never hurt Peggy, however true it was. The illusion had to hold. "Now someone throw the Director the keys to these cuffs." When one of the guards obeyed, Sharon nodded to Peggy. "I think we'll go for a little walk first. Follow me."

She cast a last look around the room. Zola had come out from behind his chair, the papers having miraculously disappeared somehow, and he was looking at her with a sort of grim satisfaction. Guy was leaning heavily on the guard next to him, smiling when Sharon looked at him. Dugan and the guards were wary, knowing that Sharon couldn't really get that far with a hostage, and just waiting for their moment.

She didn't look at Peggy.

"We're going," She said. "Follow me and I'll shoot her." Then she pulled on the cuffs, forcing Peggy to follow her out into the corridor.

So now she had a hostage, a gun and the keys to her cuffs. And no way out.


	3. Chapter Three

  
[](http://s173.photobucket.com/user/endeniem/media/Sharon_Peggys_a_zps09c46d82.png.html)   


  
_Our duty is to preserve what the past has had to say for itself, and to say for ourselves what shall be true for the future._  
John Ruskin

There was, of course, no way Sharon could drag a hostage through the whole of the base, and she had even less of a chance with a hostage who happened to be Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD.

"You let me trust you," Peggy was saying as Sharon pulled her down the secure corridor and back out into the main base. "You let me think you were on our side."

"I am." Sharon was trying to think, trying to get her higher brain functions in on the act so she could stop just acting on instinct. There was something she could use, something someone had said if she could only bring it to mind. 

"Breaking into the secure facility, attacking our prisoner and nearly killing one of my men? If that's how you treat people on your side, what on earth do you do to the enemy?"

"He's not one of your men." And there it was again, the niggling sense that she was missing something important. "He's Hydra."

"That doesn't get more convincing the more you say it, I'm afraid." Peggy wasn't resisting, but she wasn't helping either, letting herself be tugged along as Sharon tried to come up with something, anything, that would help her dig her way out of this. "We saw you on the cameras."

And of course, Sharon realised, from that point of view, it really did look bad. They had cameras, but they probably didn't have sound yet, so what they would have seen was Sharon holding Guy at gunpoint, having him open Zola's cell and forcing him to enter. Her version of events was definitely going to sound less convincing than those pictures. Guy really had thought of everything.

That was the last puzzle piece and she tried to lift her hand to smack herself on the forehead, only just stopping in time before Peggy came crashing into her.

"Sorry," she said, getting herself to a safe distance again. "Where are the guard's supply closets?"

"What?" Some of the anger was replaced with surprise, and Peggy blinked at her. "What are you going to do?"

"The place where the guards keep their spare uniforms, that sort of thing. Where is it?" She glanced down the corridor. It was late, and most of the base was empty, but there was always the chance of running into a stray guard, not to mention the ones who were actually chasing them. "Actually don't tell me, take me there. A quiet route."

Peggy was still staring at her as though Sharon had lost her mind, which probably wasn't unreasonable under the circumstances. Her world had turned upside down so often in the last twenty-four hours that the inside of Sharon's head was starting to feel like jumbled wires, everything too confused and tangled to every make sense. Only one thought was really guiding her now, and it wasn't the thing she'd expected: she wanted to go home.

"I promise, I will not hurt you if you do what I say," Sharon said, hoping it didn't sound as weary as she felt. "And I want you to take me to the supply closet."

After another long silence, in which Sharon swore she could feel the heat of Peggy's gaze, her aunt finally nodded and pointed with her free hand to the left. "We'll need to go down one floor, but it's more or less directly below us."

"Thank you." Sharon gestured for Peggy to go first. "Lead the way." It wasn't certain, of course, and as she trailed behind Peggy, trying not to put too much strain on her sore shoulder but trying not to get too close either, she let herself hope. Surely something had to go right for her today, didn't it?

* * *

For a few tense minutes, Sharon wondered if she'd miscalculated again and Peggy was leading them into a trap. But apparently she was actually curious to see what Sharon was up to, because the first door she opened was obviously what Sharon wanted.

"Excellent." Pushing Peggy inside, she locked the door behind them. "Uncuff me first." When Peggy didn't move Sharon looked up, trying to lean rather than sag against the door. "Unless you want to stay joined at the wrist forever."

As Peggy unlocked the cuffs, Sharon fumbled with the gun one-handed. It took a bit of doing, but by the time her wrist was free, she'd emptied the bullets out of Peggy's revolver.

"Here," she said, throwing the empty gun back to her and pocketing the bullets. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you."

Peggy looked down at the gun, then up at Sharon again. "You know I don't actually need a gun. And with your shoulder hurt, I doubt you'd be able to put up much of a fight right now."

"Try me and see," Sharon said, shooting Peggy a grin over her shoulder as she made her way over to the cabinets on the other side of the room. "But I don't think you're going to do anything just yet. I think you want to know what I'm going to do. You're curious."

There was nothing obviously out of place in the first three lockers, just the usual collection of street clothes, although all of these also had hats on the tops of the piles of shirts and suits.

"You think you know a lot about me." Sharon heard the click of a cuff unlocking, and guessed Peggy had freed herself. "How is that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Ah." The fifth locker held clothes that weren't quite the same as the others, the cloth a better weave and the colours slightly different. Most importantly though, there was no hat to be seen. Sharon started to rummage through the contents, hissing through her teeth when her shoulder protested.

"Do you know me?"

It was a simple, obvious question, and not one Sharon was ready for. She hesitated, stopping her search to try and think. When she didn't reply, Peggy said, "In the future, do you know me?"

Sharon's hands twitched reflexively as she tried to get herself under control, and she felt the hard surface she'd been searching for. Slowly, not looking at Peggy, she pulled the bundle out from the locker and brought it over to the central bench. As she started to unwrap it, she knew what she was going to say. It was a really bad idea, and she was going to say it anyway.

"Yes. I know you. Very well."

"I see." There was movement, and then Peggy was sitting at the far end of the bench. "And we're enemies there."

That made Sharon's head shoot up so fast that another flash of heat shot through her shoulder. "What?"

"I saw what you did, Agent. And I think I know what you were trying not to tell me. There are still Hydra agents in the future, aren't there? And you're one of them." It was said gently, as though Peggy were breaking bad news to Sharon.

For the first time, Sharon felt her throat tighten and her face flush. She was not going to cry, she simply wasn't, but it was going to be a close run thing.

"I am not Hydra, and we are not enemies." The words were choked, difficult to get past the lump in her throat. "What you saw, it wasn't what it seemed. I can't explain, but you need to watch that man I was with. He's dangerous."

"Says the woman who so far today has taken out two SHIELD security teams and kidnapped the Director."

Sharon managed something close to a smile at that. "More like borrowed you for the sake of my own security." She finally turned her attention back to the bundle on the bench, carefully unwrapping it.

As the cloth fell away, Sharon heard Peggy gasp. "Is that-"

"It's the time travel device, yes. It's got a homing signal in it, so it should take me back, hopefully to the moment I left. I think there's another Hydra agent there to deal with. Or possibly just another dupe." After today, she was going to listen a lot harder when so-called 'rogue agents' told her they'd just been tricked. She looked up at Peggy. "Are you going to try to stop me?"

For a moment, she was genuinely worried about the answer, as Peggy looked from the device up to Sharon's face and away again. On impulse, Sharon reached out and covered Peggy's hand with her own, just as Peggy had done when she'd first arrived.

"Listen to me," she said, suddenly feeling the urgency of the situation. "You have to let him go."

"What?"

"Captain Rogers. Steve. You have to let him go." She flinched a little when Peggy pulled her hand sharply away, but pressed on. "I know it hurts, and I know how much you love him, but you have to let go. He'd want you to be happy." She'd nearly slipped there, nearly picked the wrong tense.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Peggy said, and this time it was her voice that was choked with emotion.

"I do. And I just wanted to say that I think it's okay to be happy, and that he'd want that for you."

Peggy's eyes were shining, and she shook her head. "How can you say that to me? How can you know?"

There was no answer Sharon could give to that without giving too much away, so she just reached forward instead, pulling Peggy into the hug that she'd wanted since appearing here. Peggy didn't respond, staying rigid in Sharon's embrace, but one hand curled around Sharon's elbow.

When Sharon finally sat back again, Peggy nodded to her. "You should go. And if we ever meet again, you can explain to me what happened."

"I will, I promise," Sharon said. Carefully, she put her hand on the device, which was a large, faceted stone held in some kind of metal frame. It was warm under her hand, and at first, she thought it was all going to be a huge anti-climax. After all, she had no idea how to work this thing, and there was always the chance that it would only work for Guy. But he'd just slammed his hand on it to make it light up, and after a second, Sharon felt it start to tremble under her fingers.

She looked up at Peggy. "You need to go," she said. "Get out of range, or you'll end up taking a trip with me."

Peggy opened her mouth as though she wanted to protest, the objections dying on her lips. She nodded, just once, and retreated towards the door. Whether she stayed there or fled all the way into the corridor, Sharon had no idea. The light was already blinding her, and it was taking an effort to hold her hand against the stone and its searing heat.

Just when she thought it was going to become unbearable, she felt something lurch, the world breaking into spectrum colours around her, then resolving back into that blinding white light that she remembered from her journey here. She put an arm over her eyes instinctively, crying out as the movement pulled at her injured shoulder. The sound was lost in the rush, everything obliterated for a split second that might have gone on forever.

Then she was back where she'd started, falling to the floor since the bench she'd been sitting on had stayed behind. She heard the stone clatter to the floor as well, but couldn't care about that as she'd landed on her bad shoulder, and this time, didn't really think she could face fighting through the pain.

So she rolled onto her back, trying to hold her shoulder as still as possible, and staring at the ceiling while her vision cleared. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the man she'd shot earlier, who didn't seem to be bleeding, even if he was wheezing a little. The bullet proof vest would have saved his life, but the bruising would be spectacular.

She was still lying there five minutes later when her team finally caught up to them and her boss starting reaming her out for disobeying orders. This time, she was definitely going to take the sick leave she needed.

  
[](http://s173.photobucket.com/user/endeniem/media/logo_col_zps9c94a02b.png.html)   


A week later, Sharon left the sling at home and got in her car for the first time since she got back from her time trip. It wasn't a long drive where she was going, and it would be a good way to stretch her muscles a little. She had various exercises from the physiotherapist, who had also advised her to go back to normal, if gentle movements as quickly as possible. 

One of the nurses met her at the door as they always did, smiling and welcoming her with the usual update. A little better, a little worse. How much food, how much tea, how many pills. Which year.

The nurse had an almost apologetic expression today. "I'm sorry, Miss Carter. She's not holding on to much today. She keeps asking who the people in the photographs by her bed are."

Even when the last ten years faded into shadows, Peggy Carter always remembered her family. The days she didn't were always her very worst.

"It's fine," Sharon said, looking past the nurse to the house beyond. "It doesn't matter."

There were rituals to visits, traditions that comforted and provided desperately needed structure. Sharon made two cups of tea in the tiny kitchenette, water boiled in the electric kettle and brewed until you could stand a spoon up in it. Builder's tea, Peggy always use to call it, with plenty of milk and no sugar.

She took the cups through, carrying carefully with her injured arm. One cup went on the bedside table, never to be drunk but always having to be made. Sharon cradled the other, blowing on the surface to cool it.

"Hello, Auntie," she said softly, not wanting to startle her. She knew now why she'd left it a week before coming here, and it wasn't just because of the cab fare. Seeing her elderly aunt young and strong again had been a shock. To come back from that and see her like this again would have been unbearable.

With a week's distance, the endless debriefings and the suggestion that she take something of an extended leave of absence, she thought she'd be better able to cope. And she probably was, but it wasn't as though this was ever going to be easy.

After another few minutes, Peggy stirred, turning her head on the pillow and slowly opening her eyes. She smiled when she saw Sharon.

"Hello, love. Have you come to see me?"

It was what she always said, done at first to hide any lapses in memory that meant she couldn't remember the names of her visitors. Now, it was just habit.

"I have. It's good to see you, auntie. You haven't been calling so much lately."

"Haven't I? Oh dear, I am sorry." There was enough confusion Peggy's expression that Sharon had to rush a reassurance.

"It's fine, I don't mind. I've been busy anyway."

"Have you? That's nice." Peggy shifted to what must have been a more comfortable angle to see Sharon from. "What have you been doing?"

Sharon ducked her head, sipping her tea carefully before answering the question with another question. "Do you remember someone called Agent Thirteen, auntie?"

With just the slightest hint of a frown, Peggy nodded, her eyes distant. "Agent Thirteen," she said thoughtfully. "I haven't heard that name in years. Of course, officially, she didn't exist. We wrote her out of the records and reports. No one would have believed us anyway, even at SHIELD."

It was more than Sharon had heard her aunt say in months, and there was more she needed to know.

"And what about Guy Brackley?" she asked in the same careful tone.

This time, the frown was deeper, and the effort of remembering obviously harder. "Guy Brackley. Guy Brackley. Oh yes." She smiled, probably as much from the achievement of remembering as the memory. "He worked his way up from the ranks. Took over from Dum Dum when he retired. Good boy, always in trouble, but basically a good boy." Peggy coughed a little, giving Sharon another chance to sip her tea and get her expression under control. "Why do you want to know?"

"They just came up in conversation recently and I was curious."

"You mustn't ask about that, it's dangerous." There was an urgency in Peggy's tone that surprised Sharon. "We wrote the report so that no one would ask questions, and no one would know we were looking."

"Looking for what?"

With great effort, Peggy lifted her head from the pillow, beckoning Sharon towards her. She waited until Sharon had leaned closer, close enough to feel Peggy's breath on her face as she said, "Hydra."

Sharon sat back, and Peggy relaxed back into her pillows, her eyes closed, breathing a little laboured. Belatedly, Sharon realised that she was holding her cup so hard that her knuckles were white and her fingers were starting to burn. 

Peggy had believed her. She'd believed her and she'd gone looking for Hydra, and Guy Brackley had hidden right under her nose for years. Or had he? Maybe Peggy had known all along, but hadn't been able to root them out, had left the job unfinished. She would have expected her successors to carry on, Sharon knew. And a fine job they'd done of that.

"Oh, hello, dear. Have you come to see me?"

Biting her lip, Sharon nodded, taking a few deep breaths before saying, "Yes, auntie. I thought I'd come and talk to you for a while, if that's okay?"

"That would be lovely. I always like listening to you talk, Sharon."

It was the first time in ten visits that Peggy had known her name, and it nearly finished Sharon. She put her tea down, grabbing a tissue from the box by the bed and using it to dry her eyes before settling back in her chair. She'd made a promise, after all. It helped that Peggy wouldn't remember, so Sharon could keep her word without breaking any other oaths.

"You made me promise to come back and tell you what happened," she said, picking up her tea again. "So here I am, but I'm going to have to go back a little way first. Did I tell you that I passed my tests to enter the CIA?"

  
[](http://s173.photobucket.com/user/endeniem/media/logo_bn_zpsafd2930c.png.html)   



End file.
